Chimerical
by MereWhispers
Summary: 【hiatus】DHr. Post-Hogwarts. EWE? Hermione's life tumbles down a spiral staircase, when her parents' obvious and predictable reaction to her impending marriage with Ron, turns out not in the least 'obvious' and 'predictable'. [Rating will change.]
1. one

_**DISCLAIMER: All the Characters are rightfully owned by the mighty JK Rowling. The basic storyline - the brilliant world of magic, Hogwarts, the beauty of it all that enchants us - is all JK's property.**_ _ **I only own the plot to this particular thing called 'Chimerical', and I happen to have named Hermione's parents by my own brush of imagination. Rest, the Characters, along with their names, houses and grades at the OWLs, belong to JK. Though, my heart happens to be a property of Tom Felton, but that is besides the point.**_

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 **one**

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 **21st July, 2001**

 **Saturday**

 **Granger Villa**

" _Hermione_ ," Her frantic ramblings were cut short by her father's deep, grave warning. "You must realise that I and your mother have a better understanding of the real world. You must trust us enough to know that we would decide only the _best_ for you, child."

Hermione clicked her tongue, shaking her head.

"Yes, Dad, I _do_ know that, but-"

"No, sweetheart," Her mother looked at her with sympathy laden eyes, and a tinge of guilt. "This discussion is better off done for now. It is late, anyways, and you're leaving for to see your friend early tomorrow. Just please rest."

Setting her jaw, Hermione crossed her arms and looked away. With her posture stiff in arrogance, she gave a single, curt nod to her parents.

"Right," Her eyes flicked over to the wall clock above the door her parents stood next to. "It's past ten, I'd like to retire. Good night."

Without so much as a glance at her, Hermione's father padded out of her room. Her mother gave out a resigned sigh, following her husband's trail with her eyes. Then she looked back at her daughter.

Hermione's eyes had glazed. Sure she didn't want to - and certainly did not _approve_ of it - but she felt like crying. Not that she was in _deep grief_. Okay, maybe she was. But her brimming eyes were the doing of uninhibited frustration and that alienated feeling of helplessness. She dragged on air through her mouth, blinking back the traitorous tears, as she noticed her mother's gaze of absolute pity directed at her. Pity. She certainly could cry buckets over being _pitied_ at.

"Hermione dear-"

She held up her palm to stop her mother's arguments. She wasn't willing to listen to any of her explanations. Her mother had most perfectly supported her father in his opinion, and she actually _did_ share his opinion - was all that mattered to Hermione. Because, in the end, any sort of apologies or clarifications were not going to amend the _verdict_ they had spelled out to her. That had, after all, been the entire point behind the heated quarrel she'd been having with the so-called 'experienced' parents of hers, who'd 'never do a thing against her welfare'.

She sighed. "Good night, Mum. I've to be up early tomorrow."

"For whatever it's worth, Hermione," Her mother sniffed, "I truly _am_ sorry about this entire charade."

Hermione coughed out a mirthless, cynical laugh.

"Of _course_ , Mum," She sneered, exploding with frustration, "and so am _I_."

Screwing her eyes shut, her mother exhaled in pained expressions. For the tiniest of moments, Hermione felt guilt knocking at her guts. But the moment was gone as soon as she saw her mother shaking her head in disapproval at her, disappointment _in_ her. She clenched her fists. _Right_.

"Good night, 'Mione," Her mother breathed before stalking out and shutting the door softly after her.

Huffing, Hermione grasped fistful of her hair, ready to rip them apart if that could allow her peace. But she knew better - _nothing_ could. Except, of course, her parents' changed decision, which was as much possible as them learning magic.

Stomping off to her bed, she slumped gracelessly into the plush mattress - hands and legs sprawled like that of a dead eagle. After the torturous events today, tomorrow she was meeting Harry. _Life can not possibly be better_ , she thought sarcastically.

Today had been an extremely important day. To her, that is. Technically, her future life was to be decided - which was now done, however unpleasant the outcome might be to her - by her parents. Clearly stating, her parents were to meet Ronald Weasley as their to-be son-in-law, today. Hermione couldn't actually blame it all on Ron, but he definitely had _some_ doing in disgusting them with the very prospect. By the time her father was over with his humiliation of Ron, he was the brightest of reds she'd ever seen him turn, in the entire time of knowing him.

Whimpering at that sickening feeling of helplessness, Hermione thought of how beautiful a conversation with Ginny could have been at the moment. But none was likely to be made for two very obvious reasons - one, no magical method(owl, or floo call) was allowed from her Muggle surroundings, and two, unlike Harry, Ginny had flat out _refused_ to accept and use a cellphone for the purpose of conversing with Hermione whenever she was at her parents'.

Hermione let her eyes slide shut as she shifted to a more decent sleeping position on her bed, under her duvet. Before the mighty dreamless sleep occupied her, Hermione's last thoughts were about Ginny's reaction when she would tell her that the redhead's plans of calling Hermione _SIL_ \- a stupid, Ginny-made slang for 'sister-in-law' - had been ruthlessly slashed down by Hermione's parents…and partially by her own foolish ginger brother!

 **ooo**

The - now - unfamiliar shrill of her Muggle alarm clock almost threw Hermione out of her bed. Collecting her senses, she swiftly quitened the damned device and pulled up the partly fallen duvet back on the bed. Yawning, she stood up and stretched. Her eyes immediately fell on the wall clock that faced her bed.

 _8.02_

Oh, _no_! Her breakfast with Harry was due half past eight. She tutted at her foolishness for not having rechecked the alarm the previous night. But then, she had a lot on her mind to remember such timid, silly details.

Rushing off to her attached washroom, she grabbed her wand on the way - frantically tired of abiding by the rules prohibiting use of magic in Muggle surroundings. And then, her parents were the only ones who could learn about her using magic in her bathroom, and they did not hate her enough to hand over to the Ministry. Moreover, they would only do 'the best for her', as her father had stated.

Rolling her eyes, she cast a _Scourgify_ on her teeth, waving her wand at the faucet to begin the shower and tapping the wand at her shoulder to vanish her clothes.

Ten minutes into the shower, and Hermione was panicking with the worry of running late to her breakfast. Hurrying out, she casted drying charms over herself - major ones, with smoothing tendencies(the ones used on wet clothing), over her hair - and rushed over to the attached closet in the tiled room.

Grabbing a flannel, sleeveless beige shirt and navy slacks, she magicked them on herself. Leaving out the rest unnecessary aspects of dressing up, she plopped on a pair of green canvass shoes and darted out of the confines of her moist, steaming bathroom.

Passing through her bedroom, she hurriedly collected her wristwatch and cellphone as she advanced downstairs.

"I'm leaving, Mum, Dad!" She yelled out in the living room, certain that her voice would reach their respective locations in the kitchen and their bedroom.

"Right, dear," Her mother's voice called back from the kitchen, "Take care and keep an eye in your phone, in case we need to contact you."

Grimacing at her mother's patronizing tone, Hermione extracted her travelling overcoat from the coat closet.

"Bye, Mum," She called out, realising that her father must have been sleeping in till late, it being a day off.

Stepping out, she clicked the door shut after her. Then she shrugged on her white, leather overcoat. It was pretty humid at the time in London, and she would surely have gone without the heavy garment if it wasn't for the scorching sun shining down at the country. She slipped her wand into an inner pocket of her coat and walked out of her house's fenced boundaries.

Once out, she began looking around for taxies. It was rather frustrating - if not humiliating - for her to be searching for a cab as means of transport, when she could very well apparate without second thought. She decided that she couldn't wait for her vacation at home to end. Just a single week out of the three remained, as it was.

Finally spotting one of the vehicles she was looking for, she called it over and slipped in, providing its driver with the name of the coffee shop she was to reach.

As the car pulled out of her street, she relaxed back against the leather seat - mentally preparing herself for the news she was to spill over to Harry.

 **ooo**

Harry was, surprisingly, waiting for her when she stepped out of the taxi before _Cups & Cakes_. Smiling at the aged cab driver as he thanked her for the tip, Hermione hopped the tiny flight of stairs up to the coffee shop with the dark haired wizard.

"Good morning," Harry beamed a smile at her, as he held the glass doors open for her in proper chivalry.

She smiled back.

"Good morning, Harry."

Getting in, he helped her with removal of her coat and undid his own scarf, taking off the cowboy hat he'd very gracefully tipped over his head.

A Waiter was by their side in no time, escorting the two to a very comfortable looking corner booth, adjacent to the glass partition - excuse for a wall - of the place. Hermione slid into the wall-mounted couch, while Harry into the opposite chair.

Filling the Waiter with an order of a cappuccino for each of them, and a garlic bread serving with cheese dip for himself and strawberry pancakes for Hermione, Harry finally focussed on his best friend.

"Long time, Hermione," He chuckled.

Hermione smiled.

"Two weeks, Harry," She sighed, "Guess I'm already missing the Ministry Elevators."

Harry giggled louder. "Dunno 'bout the elevators," He shrugged, "but your dear team of strong willed elves joining your SPEW cause are definitely missing you."

"Oh dear," Hermione gasped, "I nearly forgot about those poor things!" She groaned, "And what about my Magical Creatures office? Any news from Angelina?" She asked, referring to the Care of Magical Creatures Department's Head, and George Weasley's wife.

Harry shook his head. "None in my knowledge. She isn't too much in work, these days. Her pregnancy taking a toll or something," Harry winced at the last part.

Hermione laughed. "Oh come _on_ , Harry, you wouldn't understand even if you tried to. It is a hell lot of hormonal nuisance to deal with," She smiled at her best friend's blush, "It's not that Kingsley would charge her or anything, anyway. She worked well and efficient through the first six months - he _should_ grant her ease and mange the next three, something."

Harry hummed, prepared to speak, when another waiter brought their breakfast. Grabbing her cappuccino, Hermione took a generous gulp - moaning in pleasure as her eyes shut. She opened them to Harry's chuckles.

"How long have you not taken a cappuccino, Mione?" Harry teased, well aware of Hermione's obsession with the drink.

Hermione blushed. "Three days," she mumbled, keeping her glass back and pulling her pancakes' plate towards herself.

Harry snorted. "I _don't_ believe this," He clicked his tongue, eyes narrowed in challenge, "You couldn't have gone _two_ consecutive days without a drink. Well, did you?"

Hermione huffed, pursing her lips in mock annoyance. "Okay, fine, I didn't. I had it yesterday. So?"

Instead of replying, Harry burst out laughing.

"You're…" He choked between his guffaws, "...impossible… Hermione."

Hermione tried to put on her best annoyed mask, but a smile nevertheless flitted across her face at her best friend's teary eyes. "Oh yes, I am, thank you."

Harry finally coughed a few ending laughs, and cleared his throat, taking a sip from his own cappuccino for good measure.

"How's Ginny?" Hermione asked, her brain catching back on events of the previous days.

Harry blushed, taking a bite out of his cheese coated bread stick.

"Jhe's jhood," He spoke between the bites, and Hermione felt nostalgia of her moments with him and Ron at meals in the Great Hall, hit her hard. "I met her four days back, at the Burrow, of course. She's expecting a promotion, she says."

Hermione's brows shot up as she chewed at her pancake. Unlike Harry, she patiently cleared her mouth before voicing her astonishment out. "A _promotion_? You have promotions in Quidditch teams? Like what - a captain, or something?"

Harry squinted at her for a brief second before clicking his tongue. "Or something," Hermione rolled her eyes at the cliché. "She's a Chaser currently, and might be becoming a Seeker if promoted."

Hermione frowned deeply, nodding slowly as she processed the heavy information. Not so heavy, alright. But it was _Quidditch_ , and every damn thing about the wonder sport had always turned out heavy for her.

Then her eyes brightened.

"Okay, I got it!" She spoke excitedly, "This means that she'd been playing at Angelina's place up till now, and she's going to play at yours if she were promoted?"

Harry gave her an impressed look. "Brilliant, 'Mione. That's right," He smiled softly at her.

Not thinking before speaking, she abruptly spat out her next question, immediately biting her tongue later. "And what is Ron's place in his team, again?"

Harry's lips curved into a knwong smirk. But,instead of explaining, he took on to teasing.

"Tell me what, Hermione, you've never been known for giving _half_ of an ear to the Quidditch talks back at school. What's gotten you so badly curious?"

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. " _Exactly_. I was merely _curious_. Not _interested_ , or something."

Harry laughed, as she furiously stabbed at the next bite of her pancake. They ate in silence for a few minutes, with occasional glances outside of the glass partition. She was left with roughly three bites and less than half of her cappuccino when Harry finally broke the ice.

"So," He sighed, grinning mischievously the next instant, "How long till the Wedding Bells?"

Hermione's insides twisted. A knot formed in her throat.

"No, Harry," She croaked out through a terribly constricted throat.

Harry frowned. "No? What _no_ , 'Mione?"

Hermione took in a deep calming breath.

"My parents very clearly disapproved of my association with Ronald Weasley for marriage, yesterday, soon after meeting him at his visit to my home."

Harry's jaw was impossibly drooping and eyes were almost as round as the spectacles shielding them.

" _What is that supposed to mean_?" He asked in a dangerously low tone, spelling each word out to her.

"It means that they won't give me their consent. I can't marry him, Harry," Her voice cracked and his breath hitched, "I can't be with him. I can't be with… Ron," She mumbled his name softly to herself, letting one amongst many of the held back tears since last night, trail down her cheek.

Wordlessly, Harry's hand came over the table to clutch hers reassuringly. His tone brimmed with incredulity when he spoke.

"But-but _why_ \- 'Mione - how," He stammered, shaken to core at the revelation, " _How_ can they do this to you? Y-you are no… _House-elf_ for them to order about! You're a person with your own likes and dislikes, own decision making skills. Why would they do this, Hermione?"

Hermione inhaled a shuddering breath, Harry's hand instantly increasing pressure on hers.

"They-they do not like him," Harry gasped, she smiled sadly up at him, "They think he's an irresponsible person, who'd not be able to take care of me and lead me through a happily married life," She sighed, Harry's hand slackening its grip due to his shock, "They feel that I'm a very intelligent, able woman, and he's not of any match to my mental capacity. They want me to spend my life with someone of better wits, and possibly, better looks, even."

Harry was openly scowling when she finished. "This is downright _barbaric_ , 'Mione," His voice hadn't left it's incredulous note, "They cannot bloody _dictate_ their decisions over you! You're an adult and plus in age, both by the Wizarding as well as the Muggle Law."

Hermione nodded, glumly. "I know all of that, Harry, but mum and dad are too much convinced about Ron being inappropriate for me. Over that, they went on to say that whatever they would be deciding, would be for my own good." She laughed bitterly, "I mean, look at the sodding irony - _they_ will _decide_ for _me_ , and it would be the _best_ for _me_. I mean, just - _woah_!" She threw her arms up in exasperation.

Harry swiftly glanced around, clearly understanding her raging anger. Beckoning over to a Waiter, he dropped off required Pounds on the table, and grabbed Hermione's elbow.

"Let's leave, come on."

Without a word, she got up and followed him to the coat hooks next to the main entrance to the place. Silently, she slipped into her overcoat as Harry tied up his scarf and placed the hat back over his head. They exited the place, then.

Walking by Harry's side, down the pavement, Hermione kept a vigilant eye on the passing vehicles for a taxi. Harry noticed.

"I can walk you home, 'Mione," He offered, his voice many octaves down due to the gloom settling into his chest by the news Hermione had broken over.

She shook her head. "Wouldn't want to meet my parents, Mister Potter," She retorted sarcastically - _bitterly_.

Harry sighed. "Don't give up just yet, Hermione. Talk to them. I'm sure something would figure out. They're your parents, after all; they'd eventually _have_ to understand where your happiness lies."

"I thought the same, Harry," Hermione sniffed. "But after yesterday - I'm no longer sure."

Harry nodded, reluctantly understanding his bestfriend's trouble.

"But really," She spoke agin, sounding more assured and the slightest bit of amused, "you should _not_ walk me home."

At this, Harry's brows rose. "No? Why?"

She chuckled lighlty. "My parents aren't ordinary Muggles, Harry. They are a witch's parents. They know all about Voldemort and the war and… _you_." She paused for emphasis, and chuckled again when recognition settled over his features. "They'd lock you up and pester you with questions about how does it feel to be the _Ultimate War Hero_."

He grinned smugly. "Oh, that I am."

Hermione rolled her eyes and smacked his head upside "No need to be so crazily smug about it," She hissed, "Not around _me_ , at least."

He chuckled, then ceased. His brain leapt back in time, immediately, resting over a similar moment in their Sixth Year, when he'd gone smug about being the _Chosen One_ , and Hermione had hit him. He smiled fondly at the memory, turning to look over the one person who'd been by his side for all of the years since he crossed the threshold of a particular Wizarding school in Scotland. Had not _crossed the threshold_ , even.

Hermione turned her head to look at Harry, a scolding at the tip of her tongue at his smugness. But, in place of his earlier boastful grin, she found an affection smile directed at her. She smiled back.

Silently, he reached over and wrapped an arm over her shoulders, bringing her to his side.

"All will be okay in no time, 'Mione, just remember that I love you," He said, before pressing a kiss over her head.

Hermione's eyes brimmed again.

"Oh Harry," She sighed, draping an arm about his waist, feeling him mold into the role of the elder brother, she never had. "I love you, too."

They walked up to close proximity of her locality's block, and then separated to their own paths with a final parting hug and a meaningful 'see you soon'.

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 ** _Please Review if you read._**

 ** _xoxo_**

 ** _Aishwarya._**

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 **ooo TO BE CONTINUED ooo**


	2. two

_**Thanks to all for the Reviews, Follows and Favourites.** A couple of points that I felt were necessary to be mentioned outside of the story,_

 _\- In this story, Hermione's father is a Dentist, but her mother is not. She is a housewife. I wanted her to be home for a pretty long duration a day, and it was comfortable this way._

 _\- Use of Magic in Muggle areas is actually prohibited regardless of the age of the caster. Though, until it is not reported to the MoM, actions cannot be taken due to the fact that it isn't really acknowledged._

 _\- If isn't clear through this Chapter, and wasn't by the previous, refer to this: Ginny is professionally in Quidditch - preferably for the Holyhead Harpies - and Ron is a professional player for Chudley Cannons. He isn't an Auror, no. Hermione's job was detailed out in Chapter One - a Care for Magical Creatures Department worker, and Head of her very own SPEW. Harry would come into light later. Draco - well - he's yet to make an appearance **!**_

 _ **That's it, for now. Read on!**_

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 **two**

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 **23rd July, 2001**

 **Monday**

 **Granger Villa**

Hermione groaned again. She'd been sulking in her room, snuggled into bed covers with a tub of chocolate fudge sundae that she'd charmed to keep replenishing. Gobbling down another mouthful, she thought about her time at home after meeting up with Harry, yesterday. Well, it wasn't as if there _was_ anything to think about. She'd completely ignored her father's presence all through the day, and had conversed with her mother when it had become extremely unavoidable - during the meals.

Her head had throbbed with confusions and unease, nonetheless. As Harry had so eloquently put, something _had_ to figure out. But it had already been more than twenty four hours since that ill fated night, and absolutely _nothing_ had struck to her. On top of that, Ron was off - hiding his red-mop covered head somewhere, and hadn't _once_ tried to contact her. Her father had threatened him, alright, but wasn't that normal? Of course it was! A parent against his daughter's relationship with a certain someone, was obvious to warn the person to steer clear of her. But had it meant that Ron was actually supposed to hide his arse? Hardly.

There was, in other words, nothing she could do, until she got back to Magical London and her job at the Ministry. There she had some hopes of coming up with something after discussions with the diligent Senior Undersecretary of the Minister, Padma Patil, and her boss cum Ron's sis-in-law, Angelina Weasley. And even before the two of them - _Ginny_ , of course.

Sighing, she closed her eyes. She'd woken up late today, and hadn't left her room since. She'd skipped breakfast, but was _dreading_ lunch. Her mother - given, her father wasn't home due to it being a Monday - was sure to bug her with pleas of invitation to _eat something_.

Right on the cue, there was a knock at her door.

"Come on, Hermione dear," Her mother called out, "you haven't eaten anything all this while, and it is past one already. Come down, have lunch."

Hermione scowled at the indifference in her mother's tone, despite her words.

"Gimme five minutes, Mum," She called back.

For hours into last night, she had cursed herself for not having installed false memories of her parents being appreciative of Ron, when she'd given them their memories back, some three years ago. The idea didn't strike to her supposedly _brilliant_ brains, back then, you see.

Grumpily, she tore off the covers enveloping her and _Evanesco_ d the tub of fudge sundae, her mother was clearly unaware of which. Stepping out of her bed, she ran fingers through her rumpled hair. Sure, they were no longer that infamous bushy-mane, but her curls still carried the potential of getting impossibly tangled.

She walked over to the magically locked door of her room, straightening her cotton pyjama bottoms and the short sleeved tank top she wore. She really, _really_ hated Summers.

Exiting her room, she tiredly stepped down the staircase as her hands mechanically worked on tying her hair into a knot. The house was heavily warm - having not gotten Air Conditioners installed, yet - and her dear _idealistic_ father had assured her about how well they could do without her casting a permanent Cooling Charm all over. She shook her head at the memory. His father's ethics oddly reminded her of how much she resembled him. Although, nothing _at all_ was going to relieve the man of the sin he'd committed by rejecting Ron.

Hermione dashed down the remaining stairs and turned to her right - gracefully crossing the almost fully settled Living Room - and entered the pitch dark Dining Room.

She huffed in annoyance. Her mother had this strange obsession with dark coloured curtains. Frowning, she stepped ahead, all set to reach over and drag the curtains away from the window, to allow _some_ amount of light in. She couldn't even see her own body parts, if she tried. There weren't any electrical lighting systems fixed into this particular room as of yet.

As soon as Hermione placed her foot a step ahead, she - well - _stumbled_ and _fell_ down, face first into the carpet.

After a yelp of surprise, she let out a deep grown, " _Mum_!"

Her mother's hurried footsteps sounded from the other side of the room - the side next to the kitchen - followed by her panicked voice.

"'Mione! What is it, dear? Where are you?"

Hermione groaned again, pulling herself up on knees and palms. " _When_ exactly do you intend to discard off these packing cartons, Mum?" She asked, furious at the offending cardboard box.

Hermione's mother sighed. "Did you trip, Hermione?"

Hermione gingerly got up, holding onto the dining table for leverage.

"Well, _obviously_ I did!" She all, but, yelled.

The next thing Hermione saw was her mother pulling away curtains from the wall-length window.

She had totally _hated_ the idea, when her father had confessed to her - a month back - that he had spotted a 'beautiful villa' in some colony housing one of his colleagues, and he was intending to buy it. Not that she disliked the thoughts of a new house. It was quite the opposite actually - she had too many nightmarish memories attached to that old place, after all. But mere thoughts of the _shifting process_ had traumatized her. She'd done all in her hands to convince her parents of this being a rather 'silly waste of time', but, none of them has caved.

And then she had been compelled to take a hefty _three-weeks-off_ from her tremendously busy schedule, to _assist_ her parents in the sodding shifting business. One week - minus two days, rather - remained of the duration, and the only fully adjusted rooms of the house totalled up to three - her own and her parents' bedroom and the kitchen. They'd tried to adjust the Living Room to keep up with guests, if any was to come, but rest of the places contained mostly stacked up cardboard boxes and sheet-covered furniture.

"I'm sorry, dear, but you _are_ aware of the haphazard condition of objects around," Her mother chastised, as she helped her settle over a dining chair, while Hermione nurtured her sprained foot. "And you _do_ know that this is to stay for a while. Your dad wouldn't allow use of Magic, and manual labour of three isn't quite a great number."

Hermione felt mad, although she couldn't help but agree that her mother was right.

"And your labour might reduce to _two_ , if this sprain turns out to be fracture of any sort," She replied, sharply.

Her mother simply rolled her eyes, walking back to the kitchen. "It's Cottage Pie and mashed potatoes for lunch," She called back over her shoulder.

Simply twisting in her seat, Hermione turned her plate over and plucked out a pair of cutlery from the crystal Spoon-Holder.

Within seconds, her mother reappeared with a tray of meat in her hands. Sitting into the chair kept exactly opposite to Hermione's, she overturned her own ceramic dish and poured herself a glass of water, while Hermione helped herself with a serving of the food.

"I and your dad had a talk, Hermione," She spoke after sometime.

Hermione looked up from the delicious spoonful of mashed potatoes to her mother's determinately narrowed eyes and pursed lips. She immediately understood that this was going to be something of significance.

"And?" She tentatively questioned, transferring the spoonful into her mouth and biting back a moan of pleasure at the flavours, heeding respect to her mother's serious demeanor. She was simply a _great cook_!

"We don't know much about the laws of your Wizarding world, but we have decided to overlook them," She explained, making Hermione's brows shoot up. "The Marriage laws, that is."

Hermione, at once, lost her appetite. This wasn't _exactly_ unexpected to her, though. Since the moment her father had told her that he - along with her mother - would 'decide only the best for her', Hermione had dreaded this particular line of thoughts - subconsciously assured of it's ultimate arrival. And, eventually, they _had_ actually reached it.

"So?" She boldly asked, "What are you expecting out of me, here?"

Her mother shook her head, guilt seeping into her gaze. Hermione gulped, in spite of herself.

"Continue with your job and everything," Her mother waved a dismissive hand, "in that Magical world of yours, but about your wedding, well I apologize 'Mione, but we have decided to arrange it for you _here_ , in our world of - what do you call it? - Muddles?"

" _Muggles_ ," Hermione corrected, petrified. Her hands vibrated on their own accord as panic set in.

 _This cannot be actually happening_ , she told herself, mentally, _I'm having a terrible nightmare, because my mind's disturbed by their disapproval of Ron and now, it - my mind, that is - is playing tricks on me by showing me visions of the deadliest of things that I can imagine happening - not that I'm technically_ _ **terrified**_ _of getting bound to a Muggle, or something! Am I? Okay, maybe I_ _ **am**_ _, but-_

"Hermione?"

Her mother's voice, along with her fingers' caress of the back of her hand, snapped Hermione out of her thoughts.

"You-you're not s- _serious_ Mum, a-are you?" She asked in a trembling voice, "You c-c- _can't_ be!"

Her mother sighed, pursing her lips. "Oh dear, I _am_ , Hermione. I myself had _no_ idea that such a day would _ever_ come in our life," She sighed again. "You're a very intelligent person, Hermione, and I and your father had trusted you with our hearts for all of the personal decisions to be made in your life. But," She huffed a breath out, "you've _deeply_ disappointed us with that-that _Weasley_ boy, dear. He's certainly _no match_ for your sort of brains, and you'll _have_ to-"

" _MUM_!" Hermione shrieked, getting up so roughly that her chair toppled back. " _Enough_ , okay? I _get_ it that you two...you-you _disapprove_ of him, but I _love_ Ron! Don't you get the tiny, apparent fact?" She banged both her palms flat on the table, making her mother jump. "And I clearly _wasn't_ paying attention to what was inside his goddamn _brain_ when I fell for him! _Don't you bleedin' get it_?" She spoke through barred teeth, tears flicking off her eyes in small droplets as she shook in pure wrath.

Her mother sat gaping, frozen by the intensity of her outbreak.

Without waiting for any response or giving her any time to recollect herself, Hermione ran out of the room. She actually _ran_ \- to as much extent as she could with the constant stinging in her left ankle - until her disoriented brain finally caught up and an idea came to her. Changing directions, she took the main staircase - instead of the narrow one leading to her room - and climbed, limped, up to her father's haywire, littered Study - that served as a mini-library as well.

Quickly casting Wards over the door to magically seal it shut, Hermione reached over to the extinct fireplace. Dropping abruptly, as pain set in, she pulled herself to sit cross-legged before it, desperately wiping her wet face dry. Then she cleared her throat several times, clearing off the teary husk from her voice box.

" _Incendio_ ," She whispered, pointing her wand at the unburnt, freshly purchased coal.

Immediately the place lit up, and Hermione sighed in temporary relief. Then she floo-called Ginny.

She had to wait for a total seven heartbeats before Ginny's brightly smiling face made its way into the smoldering coal.

"Hey there, 'Mione!" Ginny's voice vocalised her cheerful expressions.

Hermione paled. Ginny wasn't aware. Oh, no. That meant Ron hadn't told anyone about it. Suddenly, Hermione was contemplating whether she should be showing concern to where he was if he hadn't shown up at home, or she should be mad at him for leaving the hard task to her.

Contrary to her thoughts, she smiled. "Hi, Ginny. How are you?"

 _That_ totally undid the youngest Weasley.

"Oh, just _outstanding_ , Hermione!" She squealed. "I got promoted to a Seeker in the team! Do you know what does that mean?"

Blankly, Hermione arched her eyebrows. "What?"

"It means that I would be playing as a _Seeker_ against the friendly match with _Chudley Cannons_!" Her voice squeaked with excitement, "Do you see this? Ron would be _gobsmacked_ , oh _GOD_! I can't bloody _wait_!"

Hermione tasted bile. Well, this was _totally_ not going as per her expectations. She nodded subtly. "That really sounds fun, Gin."

"It is! But - wait. Would _you_ come to the match, Hermione?" Hermione choked on an inhaled breath. "It's this Saturday. Would you _please_ come? I mean, I _know_ you don't like Quidditch and all, but can you do this for me? _PLEASE_? And, in-in _fact_ , even _Ron_ would be thrilled-"

"Ginny!" Hermione interrupted her. Her talks were teetering too much around _Ron_ for Hermione to be comfortable. "You know I _loathe_ the sport, don't you?" She asked calmly.

" _No_ ," Ginny whined. " _Please_ , Hermione, don't you wanna even _meet_ me?

 _If you only knew, Gin_ , Hermione thought. "Of course I want to meet you, Ginny, but-"

"No. No _but_ s and no _no_ s," Ginny admonished.

"My mouth's sealed then, isn't it?" Hermione muttered, feeling nauseated.

"Absolutely," The redhead grinned. "I'd see you this Friday, 'Mione, but if you don't mind, I'll have to leave now. I've got practice in ten minutes, and I'm still lazing at home."

Hermione smiled. Except Arthur and Molly, the entire Weasley clan seemed to share Ron's laziness.

 _Ron_.

Her smile fell.

"Goodbye, Gin," She had hardly spoken as the connection ended and fire took over.

 **ooo**

For hours, Hermione sat next to the fireplace with her head rested on the cupboard next to her and eyes trained on the ceiling. The engulfing heat had involuntarily made her extinguish the fire, but she hadn't been able to concentrate any further, so as to cast a Cooling Charm in the room.

So, she sat sweating for hours - looking into oblivion, trying to figure out some way out of the hole she was pushed into.

And then she fell asleep.

 **ooo**

Her eyes cracked open, and she came to consciousness with a stinging pain in her neck and back. Immediately she recalled floo-calling Ginny and sitting unmoving on floor.

Then she knew she had slept.

She sat up and realised that the pain in her foot had almost subsided. Well, thst was good because that ensured her of it being a mere sprain. But then, she really couldn't understand why she wasn't able to concentrate enough to cast a Healing charm.

Getting up, she looked at the giant windows in the wall to her right. Dark. And it became obvious that she had slept into nightfall.

Clicking her tongue in irritation over herself, Hermione waved her wand at the Study's door and pulled the knob.

And then - her steps faltered. Happy, cheerful voices of her parents fell into her ear. Listening, she realised that they were talking to a third party. She listened harder, squinting into air.

" _...and I honestly don't know how much time the Guest Room would have taken, with our daughter's sprained foot and everything._ " Her mother's voice.

" _Ah, yes! I admire your thoughtfulness, dear, and again - we can't thank you enough!_ " Her father's voice, which she almost choked on.

Her father was _never_ grateful.

She realised she'd lost concentration and had missed some dialogues.

" _...tea, next time_." A stranger's voice.

Some giggling followed, making Hermione frown.

" _That's a brilliant thing to know, because, this promises you're coming back again_." Her mother's _affection_ laden voice. _What the hell?_

" _So we'll see you tomorrow morning?_ " Her father's voice, preceding her mother's giggles.

" _No, Jon,_ _ **I**_ _will see him tomorrow. You have work, did you forget?_ "

A lone chuckle - probably the outsider's - was the response, before the voices muffled. She guessed that party to have moved outside.

Peeping out from the slightly agape door, she looked about. There was no one. Stepping down the stairs with an almost absent limp, she made it into a _flawlessly assembled_ Living Room. She gasped.

And then the main gate to the house opened again and her parents stepped in - engaged in hushed conversation and with a more than glowing smile over their faces. She was right. They were coming back from dropping whosoever their company was.

"Mum, Dad," She called out, stiffly.

Their heads snapped up to look at her, slightly startled. On acknowledging her, their smiles fell. Hermione's stomach clenched. What did she _do_ to deserve this?

"Yes, child?" Her father's crisp voice came back.

"Who helped you with all this?" She said, gesturing vaguely about herself.

A fond smile made it's way to her mother's face as she looked over to Hermione's father.

"A very amazing young man, Stevenson Paley. He's our immediate neighbour, and nephew to one of your father's friends," She told Hermione, eyes still fixed knowingly on her father's cheerful face.

Hermione held back a hiss of distress. They'd already begun with the matchmaking, hadn't they?

 **ooo**

Hermione had taken up to skipping dinner and spending the remainder of the sleepless night under the moonlight, on the terrace. There, she first tended to her foot sprain, with her wand, of course.

She leant over the banister, content momentarily as pleasant, cool gushes of breeze swept over her. She hadn't showered today, and her pyjama bottoms and the tank top from last night was beginning to irk her. Yet she was thankful at the current peace and calm overtaking her.

She had a _lot_ of thinking business to deal with, and peace was all she needed.

 _Stevenson Paley_.

For some reason, Hermione felt like reaching over and strangling the stupid bloke with her _naked hands_. Okay, the 'some reason' of hers wasn't _that_ difficult to guess, actually.

Rather unconsciously, her gaze darted off to the house that - according to her calculations - was supposed to belong to their immediate neighbour.

And she -

 _Gasped_ at the sight.

There was a young man, roughly of her age, standing over the terrace - _along with a young woman_ , snogging her brains out.

She watched as the girl's - her back being to Hermione - waist and hips and bums were mercilessly groped by Stevenson Paley, as he pushed her flush against the railing. Fighting back a gag, Hermione looked away.

Glee flowed into her with such fulfillment, that she almost squeaked in happiness. The supposedly 'eligible bachelor' in her parents' eyes was interested in someone else! Good news, unadulterated.

Hopping the stairs back down, Hermione entered her room in an extremely exuberant mood. At least she'd bought herself _some_ time by getting enlightened one sodding Muggle git's field of interest.

She breathed in a sigh of relief as she lowered herself into bed. It was nearing two in the morning, when her eyes fell on the wall clock above the door. Chuckling at the oddity of time, Hermione clicked the switch on her bedside lamp to turn the lights off. She had, now, to merely wait till she got back to work from this _hellish_ vacation.

Then she fell into a sound, dreamless sleep.

* * *

 ** _Again, please Review if you read._**

 ** _xoxo_**

 ** _Aishwarya._**

* * *

 **ooo TO BE CONTINUED ooo**


	3. three

_Infinite apologies - it's been almost a_ ** _month._**

 ** _Special thanks to_** teals _**dear, for**_ ** _pointing out to me, that I'd quite fairly forgotten that I'm writing a story placed in the UK and not the US. I have amended the slip with '_** _Dollars_ _ **' and '**_ _Mom_ _ **', here, and will do it pretty quick with the first two Chapters too.**_

 ** _See this:_** Recludamut _**isn't a real HP spell. It is something I made.**_ Recludam **_is Latin for '_** _unlock_ _ **' . He he.**_

 _This one's slightly short; I fought Writer's Block for the longest, but still it showed. I hope it is pardoned **.**_

 ** _THANKYOU A TON_** _, for_ _all the Reviews, really!_

 _PS. The first part of this Chapter is Hermione's mother's POV. I don't like swapping point of views, but this one was kinda necessary_ ** _._**

* * *

 **three**

* * *

 **24th July, 2016**

 **Tuesday**

 **The (Under Construction) Walk-in Closet**

 **Granger Villa**

 _Oh Goodness! What an absolutely_ _**adorable**_ _boy_ , Hermione's mother sighed mentally.

Stevenson Paley, as per his promise, had appeared at their doorsteps at precise eight of the morning. Along with his charming looks, he was a person of _impeccable_ etiquettes. Mrs Sarah Granger could so much as _envision_ her daughter's happily married life with this young man.

"Tea?" Her husband beamed a smile at Stevenson.

Stevenson Paley smiled, blushing. _Etiquettes_!

"Thanks, Mr Granger, I'll help myself."

"Sure son," The older man chuckled. "And just so you know, call me _Jonathan_. Or better yet, _Jon_ , like my dear lovely wife, here."

Sarah Granger returned her husband's loving smile before resuming her task at hand, dusting the cushioned couches in their about-to-be-arranged walk-in closet. Or, better put, a full fledged _room_ in the name of a closet. It had been Hermione's idea, and Sarah couldn't even interrupt before her husband had begun to cheer.

"So?" Jonathan Granger spoke in a hushed, conspiring whisper as soon as Stevenson Paley was out of earshot. "What do you think?"

"He is an _amazing_ young man!" Sarah exclaimed, her eyes glistening in excitement. "If only Hermione would realise what a bundle of _mess_ that redhead of hers is, I'm sure she'll be able to acknowledge Stevenson."

Jonathan nodded solemnly.

"And I think it's time we asked her to at least _meet_ this man," He slightly narrowed his eyes, conspiratorially, "Because, you never know, maybe she'd get over that scumbag once she meets someone better."

Sarah thrummed with excitement.

"Oh, _yes_ , Jon! _Yes_! This is a _brilliant_ idea! I'll just have-"

She abruptly stopped as Stevenson made his way back into the almost-closet-turned-room, a bewildered look on his face. He frowned, looking in turns between the two adults. Then, in a snap, his expressions cleared in understanding.

"Oh!" He breathed out, taking a step back, "Pardon me, I suppose I interrupted something private."

It wasn't a question. Sarah glowed in pride. She could definitely _see_ Hermione changing her surname into _Paley_. And walking down the aisle with this gorgeous person. _Goodness_!

"That's quite alright, Steve dear, we were-"

"No!" Sarah cut in her husband's clarification, earning an irritated look from him and a confused from Stevenson. She couldn't care less. She had better plans in her head. "It _is_ something urgent, Stevenson darling. And private, of course."

Stevenson frowned, yet nodded.

"Right," He mumbled, "I-I guess I'll just… wait… outside. Yeah?"

Jonathan was positively bristling at his wife for making their guest fumbling and uncomfortable. But, _she couldn't care less_.

"That seems alright," She nodded with a bright smile. After a - _faked_ \- pause of consideration, she called for him, as he'd just twisted on his heels. "I guess taking a walk about the house would be a better idea. You _will_ be assisting us, anyways, so it is rather justified that you take a look around."

Her husband's face was morphing into understanding, and she took the opportunity to shoot a suggestive smile his way. His eyebrows shot up as he got the catch. Then he was fervently nodding.

"Y- _yeah_. Absolutely," He smiled at Stevenson as the younger man snapped his head to look at Jonathan. "Especially my Study room. We're generating a mini-library in it, and so I guess it would be fair to take up arranging _that_ next."

Sarah grinned gleefully as her husband convinced Stevenson to go off to that particular room. And she was happier by the fact that in spite of twenty four years having been passed by since they'd first gotten together, Jonathan was _still_ as adroit at catching her suggestive drifts as he had been during the days they dated.

The couple watched triumphantly as their guest began ascending the staircase leading up to the Study. Actually, the room had become Hermione's new sanctuary - along with her own room, and their terrace - since past two days.

Sarah's smile turned malicious, soon enough. That _Ron Weasley_ punk was _not_ worth of Hermione's striking intelligence; she would _have to_ accept the fact and move on.

 _Or else, I have my ways, dearest daughter._ Sarah's imagination went back to Stevenson's entwined hands with Hermione.

 **ooo**

Hermione was - if not _mad_ \- messed up with worry for Ron. The nutter had gone missing since _three_ fat days - ever since the incident at her house, that late evening - without a _trace_.

She'd spent hours after hours, this morning, floo calling Ginny, Harry, Bill - at times, Fleur too - Angelina, Padma and, as a last resort, even Minister Shacklebolt. But, to no avail. Ronald Weasley had _disappeared_ from everyone's vicinity. At least, everyone she'd contacted so far.

But, words spread like fire - and such a scandalous snippet would have reached _him_ , even, by now - and she couldn't believe that _no one_ knew of his whereabouts. This course of action, after all, was as plain as seeking strangers in a street and showing them a picture of what - or _who_ \- you've been searching for. Unless, well, if that person hadn't specially asked to _not_ provide with any piece. And in this case, Hermione couldn't put it past Ron. Needless to say, she was sorting out special _Welcome Back_ hexes in a corner of her mind, for the next time she would see him.

But, she _was_ tensed. Pretty extremely, if she was being honest. And, though she didn't want to acknowledge it much, she was dreading that Harry - and even possibly Arthur and Molly - might blame his going missing on _he_ r. Though Ginny wouldn't, she was sure, she'd _never_. But the awkward, out of place guilt was crushing her conscience so bad, that she was actually feeling quite restless and _tied up_ for not making any efforts of running around the Diagon Alley and the offices at the Ministry, however useless that might be.

She was more than certain that her parents wouldn't let her slip out, anyhow. And if they caught so much as a _whiff_ of Ron's name, they may lock her down at home and restrict her from returning to her job as well. She'd known them more than enough over the years to interpret as much.

And so, now she sat fidgeting with her wand - clad in a purple ' _all i care about is food and avoiding people_ ' printed tank top, and decent, mid-thigh denim shorts - beside the extinguished fireplace. This while, she did cast a Cooling Charm. Though her bush of hair was haphazardly knotted at the base of her neck - stabbed with an out-of-use quill and a Muggle pen, yet, tendrils insisted on bouncing out.

She sighed, flicking her wand and conjuring her favourite Jane Austen masterpiece, _Emma_ , from the clumsy, roof-high book-stacks. She had merely flipped it to the folded - _bookmarked_ \- page number 47, when there was a tentative knock at the door.

Hermione growled in irritation. It was hardly past ten in the morning, and she had been stuffed with toast and scrambled eggs at around seven o'clock. Weren't her parents supposed to be busy with arranging the house? _How_ could a person bother so much about eating? contrary to what her shirt said, Hermione wasn't a foodie and it wasn't a hidden fact. But her mother was-

"Excuse me?"

She jumped, and _just_ held back a yelp of surprise. Because, the voice coming from the other side of the door was neither her Mum's nor Dad's. But - it felt oddly familiar. She straightened her spine, yet didn't attempt to deter from her cross-legged sitting position with her back to the empty cabinets.

"Yes?" She asked, firmly.

There was shuffling, and then, "Hey - um - Miss _Hermione_ Granger?"

Aha! Hermione immediately recognized the voice as their new neighbor's. She took in a deep, courage-building breath. She _did_ need to talk to the man, yes, about her girlfriend from last night and her own - alas _disappeared_ \- boyfriend.

She got up, placing _Emma_ back on the stack sitting a few feet away from where she was huddled up, she walked to the door with her wand poised.

" _Recludamut_ ," She whispered inconspicuously to the door, and stood back.

"Mister Paley?" She enquired in an icily professional tone.

"Um - yeah?"

The guy seemed unnaturally nervous. Hermione's heart soared up as she considered the prospect of him willing to discuss about the presence of someone in his life which wouldn't allow him to get _more-than-acquainted_ with Hermione. She couldn't get herself to think of the word 'marriage', you see.

"The door isn't locked, just so you know."

There was a sigh of ' _Oh_ ', and she rushed back to kneel next to the bundles of books. The latch twisted, and the door was flung open. Collecting her Gryffindor bravery - and praying to Godric to hand her over some borrowed manipulation skills from his old friend Salazar - she put a business-like smile at her face and looked up at…

…a very smugly smirking Draco Malfoy.

She blinked twice before everything went black.

 **ooo**

The first thing she knew, was the hammer hitting her head repeatedly.

Then there was light. A _lot_ of bright, blinding white light. She tried and succeeded in clenching her eyes tighter.

Then there were voices. _Oddly_ familiar.

"No. No, no, _no_. You _don't_ Mister!" Padma.

It had appeared groggy, but the bite in the tone gave away.

"Uh, yes, she's right, actually," A heavy male voice, "You must try again." Ah. Minister Shacklebolt.

A frustrated groan followed.

"Do I seem so much _foolish_ to you?" A male - higher pitched than Shacklebolt. "I _swear_ I didn't do anything. She looked, blinked, swayed and _passed out_!" Draco _frigging_ Malfoy.

"Hey!" A shrill female. "I - I guess she's waking. Mister Malfoy, _off you go_. Privacy from you too, Minister. Oh no, you stay back, Padma."

Hermione's brain felt as if ready to fling out of her skull. This couldn't _possibly_ be…

"Thanks, Romilda." Padma sighed.

And - hopes squashed. Hermione took not more than three seconds to realose that she was at St Mungo's and being treated by _Healer_ Romilda Vane.

"Hermione?"

Hermione grunted, trying to open her eyes. Surprisingly, the room was extremely dimly lit. She easily opened her eyes to find a professional looking Romilda and nervously smiling Padma, leaning over her bed.

"Thank Heavens, you're alright 'Mione!" Padma breathed, taking Hermione's hand.

Meekly, Hermione smiled.

"Do you feel oriented enough to sit up, dear?" Romilda was questioning her.

She nodded, just as terribly as she'd smiled.

Waving her wand, _Healer Vane_ tilted the upper half of the bed to bring Hermione into a sitting position. Then she shifted her attention to going through the several vials of potions placed on the tray levitated at Hermione's side.

"Okay," Padma sat on a chair next to the bed, her face grave. "Tell me what happened. Exactly _what_ did Malfoy do?"

Hermione gulped. A fit nausea threatened to make a comeback. _Malfoy_. She'd almost forgotten about the little incident, taking it to be an imagination of her paranoid brain as she worried for Ron. But, apparently, it wasn't.

"Nothing, actually," She murmured. "He was there… when… when he _shouldn't_ have been. It was a neighbor's voice, and then, just suddenly, _Malfoy_ walked into the room. I was - Padma I was _horrified_ …"

Padma shook her head, a grimace on her face. "They didn't tell you, did they? Not even Harry?"

 _What_? "No… I guess?"

"Hermione," Padma looked over at a sympathetic Romilda Vane before continuing. "You _do_ know about Malfoy's trial, right?"

Hermione nodded. Of course she did. He, along with Lucius and Narcissa, was pardoned from Azkaban with merely an affordable fine and a year of community services. Cute. _Not_.

"Right. So… As a part of those community services which he has to do, Draco has been… Oh!" She cut off, abruptly, huffing an agitated breath. "I'm not an Auror, it really isn't my news to reveal. It's a wonder they don't have a secrecy charm placed on it." She sighed again. She was catching the habit, it seemed. "Head Auror Dawlish wouldn't be too thrilled if _I_ told you. Sorry, darling. But… You'd see Harry later today, yeah?"

Numbly, Hermione nodded as Romilda Vane began pouring potions after potions into her mouth.

Soon after, she passed out again.

* * *

 _ **Did you see the twist coming? Do you like it?**_

 _ **PLEASE Review.**_

 _ **xoxo**_

 ** _Aishwarya._**

* * *

 **ooo TO BE CONTINUED ooo**


	4. four

_Heyi._

 _ **THANKS** SO MUCH FOR ALL THE **REVIEWS** , AND **FOLLOWS**!_

 _More than a month since the last update. I am apologizing, yes, but I had good reasons. Previous month was the duration of my final exams to my last High School year - commonly known as Senior Year. (It doesn't exactly work like that, here, in my country, but can roughly be termed as this.) And now I'm caught up with various entrance examinations to colleges. I've been busy, but writing certainly helps alleviate the stress._ _I wrote drabbles and single-shots all this while. But then I decided that this needed an update, and so I did. :D_

 _And Draco is going to be into the story with full force, hence. The main four characters, along with Padma, are going to play a major role for quite some chapters to follow._ _From here on, the actual story is beginning. Be prepared for me-special tinge of humour and DHr-special snarky banter, along the way._

 _PS. This one's kept short, **intentionally**._

 _Read on!_

* * *

 **four**

* * *

 **24th July, 2001**

 **Tuesday**

 **12 Grimmauld Place**

 **(** _ **Late Evening)**_

Hermione was still groggy from the multiple sedatives given to her that morning when she stepped through the fireplace at Harry's Study. Looking around, she realised that she was late. Harry mostly spent some late afternoon hours in his Study before retiring to bed. As far as Hermione knew, Harry had made a new habit of taking dinner in his bedroom - if no one accompanied him, and forced him into the kitchen - ever since he'd become an Auror. He was always much too tired move into the Dining Hall, Ginny had told her.

She crossed the vast room, dimly lit with three floating candles, and stepped across the door. Finding herself at the bottom of the house's staircase, she smiled to herself. This place _was_ memorable, actually.

She'd just taken a step up, when voices disturbed the eerie calm about the place. Voice- _s_? She frowned. Harry had company? She hoped it wasn't Ginny. She didn't want to have her around while she bit Harry's head off. Ginny was sure to take her side with this current issue, and her reprimanding Harry by siding against him, had a past record of always leading him into weeks of grumpiness.

Following the direction the sounds seemed to be emerging from, Hermione reached the kitchen. The _kitchen_? Hermione mentally groaned. This was _definitely_ Ginny quarrelling over Harry's weak cooking skills. She wasn't to be blamed, though. Ginny cooked like a wonder. Rather, she cooked like _Molly_.

Clicking her tongue, she made a move to leave, when-

"... _you_ are _wrong! I do_ not _doubt you, for God's sake!_ " Harry.

Hermione's breath hitched. Doubt? What had Ginny done?

Horror struck, she acted on instinct, stuffing her morales away, and pressed an ear against the kitchen door.

A muffled voice was hissing, but before she could focus, Hermione had missed some part.

" _...so don't you even_ pretend _that you do! And anyways, when have I ever given you a reason to have such blind faith-_ "

" _It is_ not _blind faith! I've seen you - observed you! And how can you forget that_ I _was the one who proposed-_ "

" _Shut it! We both fucking_ know _what you were - or, might I say_ still are _? - running after. Stop this pretense, okay?_ "

Hermione couldn't breathe. Reason to trust? Proposal? Harry was running behind something? Pretending? What the _hell_ was happening in Harry and Ginny's lives? For a moment, Hermione forgot her own colossal worry as she thought about two of her best friends. But, for for only a moment, because the door was flung open the next and she toppled over.

The expected smashing against the floor never came, as Hermione found her upper arms in a vice like grip of a pair of hands. She inhaled deeply and realised that her face was stuffed into something that remarkably felt like a male's chest through linen. Her tightly clenched eyes snapped open in shock as she realised it wasn't Harry's citrus washing powder's fragrance she breathed in. This was a strong, _strong_ cologne. Startled, she looked up into fire spitting grey eyes.

She was shoved back as she gaped at Draco Malfoy's scowling face.

" _Eavesdropping_ , Granger? I swear I thought better of you," he said, sounding disappointed in her.

There was a muffled ' _Hermione_ ' to be heard, before Malfoy was pulled away from the doorway and a horrified Harry made his presence. "Hermione?" he gasped. "What are you doing here?"

Hermione quickly collected her wits, as fresh, burning fury flowed through her. "What am _I_ doing here, Harry? _Me_? I'm your _best friend_ , that is what! What the hell is _he_ doing here?" she screamed.

Harry sighed, looking at Malfoy who shrugged. Hermione's fury exploded.

"And _you_ , Draco Malfoy!" she thundered; pure, unadulterated wrath barking on her behalf. "What is _your_ gameplan, huh? Turns out you're being found at very _unexpected_ and _unwanted_ places recently, aren't you?"

Malfoy scoffed. "My, my, Granger, unexpected? Hardly," he smirked. "But how come _you_ don't know? Didn't our dear Potter tell his _best friend_?"

Harry groaned. " _Please_ , Draco. I can really do without any further antagonizing. She's gonna torment me like anything without your input, I assure you," he gave a pleading look to Malfoy, and Hermione gaped again.

Since when did Harry plead _Malfoy_? World was spiralling out of her control, and pretty fast at that.

"I can take care that it doesn't come to that, Harry," Malfoy winked at Harry, and Hermione gasped.

Since when did Malfoy call Harry by his _given name_? The world was _definitely_ spinning out of her control, and sodden hellishly _fast_!

"Yeah?" Harry scratched his mussed head and adjusted his specs. "I'll leave it to you then. But, _please_ don't strangle each other okay?" he looked between her and Malfoy.

She wasn't going to strangle him, _no_. She was going to be _castrate_ the slimy ferret and strangle _Harry_ , instead. Who was he to leave her off on Malfoy's dependence for explanations? She scowled darkly at the yawning, black-haired idiot.

"We're not done yet, Harry," she hissed through teeth, making him shut his mouth with a plop. "Remember that!"

Nodding grimly and clearing his throat multiple times, Harry mumbled quick goodnights and, walking around Hermione's crossed-arms form, rushed up the staircase. She stood glowering at the blond, meanwhile.

"Don't give me _that_ , Granger," Draco drawled, inspecting his nails. "I'm not a part of the remaining, infuriating, _silly_ two-thirds of your trio." He smirked again, raising an amused eyebrow, "Your supposedly intimidating glares don't threaten me."

"Save the brags for later, Malfoy. Spill out, _whatever_ you know about this stupid incident from today morning!"

His smirk widened and she fisted the hem of her shorts - falling somewhere above her knees - as she held herself back from punching him.

"Relax, Granger. We can talk about that in more detail and more comfort, don't you think?" he asked.

"No," Hermione shook her head, "I don't." And she didn't. Nowhere in the world could she have a _comfortable_ conversation with this Silliest Ferret of Their Age.

Without prior warning, he sighed exasperatedly and stepped into her personal space. She flinched, placing both her hands splayed over his black-linen clad chest to push him away. But she gasped as her right hand came to rest just above his heart; shocked, she felt the thrumming in him which she had believed to never have existed, all through her teenage life. She noticed a quick intake of breath by him, before he was smirking again and wrapping his arms around her waist.

" _Malfoy_!" she gasped again. But he wasn't listening.

His forehead came to rest on hers and she could count streaks of blue in his grey eyes. Then her world was spiralling and spinning again. Only, this was familiar.

 **ooo**

She was out of breath when she pushed him away. Her brain whirled with the force of Apparition. She sneered at him when she realised that he'd apparated them to her terrace.

He shrugged. "I live just next doors, remember? I can skip off into the house if your parents came looking. And you… Well, they _know_ you're a witch and can apparate."

Hermione huffed in agitation. "Can we come straight to the point? What is the meaning of all this? What _are_ you doing here, Malfoy-"

" _Shush_!" he jumped up from his bum-resting-on-banister stance. "Don't say that name, here, Granger. It's _Stevenson_ in this world. Or _Steve_ if you find that a mouthful."

Hermione's head hurt. "Just what _is_ that you… and even Harry - going by what I've witnessed today," she scowled, thinking back to the way her best friend left her with their biggest rival of all times. "What are you two upto? My head's about to burst!"

He sighed, looking down at his feet as he relaxed back on the parapet of the terrace.

"It is something _really_ secretive. But as it isn't an Auror _mission_ , I guess telling you isn't dangerous," he said quietly, looking at his feet as she frowned. "You're the _War Heroine_ , after all."

"Of course it isn't dangerous for me, Malfoy," she scoffed at him.

He winced. "Not dangerous for _me_ , I meant," he spoke in an urgent tone, before lowering his voice and scowling at her, "Will you _stop taking that name_ , Granger?"

Dangerous for him? _That_ had her interest piqued - so much that she completely ignored the warning he'd given after that. "Why, pray tell, would it be dangerous for you?"

"It is _not_ , I said," he shrugged. As she'd opened her mouth to counter, he cut her, "This is _beside the point_ , Granger."

She kept shut, tapping her foot in the silence that followed - reminding him that she was still waiting for him to begin. Taking a deep breath, he finally looked up at her. His face screamed of uncertainty, and Hermione felt uncomfortable.

"I'm an undercover Auror for the Ministry of Magic."

Hermione's hand flew up to clasp against her mouth that had continued to hang open after a loud gasp left her. Her eyes bulged. "You…you're an _Auror_?" she spoke into her palm.

Malfoy nodded, looking away again. "I have been, for the past two and half years, as a part of my Community Service."

Oh. God. The Ministry was taking up people to serve as _undercover agents_ in the name of their community services? This was _extremely_ cunning. She wondered if some _Slytherin_ had set the idea up…

"It has been quite a long time, and I'm really tired of remaining hidden. I thought upon coming out of it, few months back… and that led me to Potter. I approached him with the plea of either taking me in as a proper Auror, or disbanding me from the service," he said and took another breath. "Minister put up a condition. Despite all of what I've done as an undercover man for them - keeping ears open for any rogue activities; keeping a check on illegal seeming transactions at Gringotts; fighting in the Aurors' battles with a supply of Polyjuice - my complete abilities aren't put to test as nicely as he would have liked.

"A month ago, he approached me with _this_ idea," he smirked as her eyes narrowed. "I am to show my fullest abilities one last time by properly surviving in a Muggle community, proving myself to be of no threat to Muggles."

Hermione's brows flew off her forehead. Draco Malfoy was spending his life as a _Muggle_ , these days? She felt like giggling.

"Stevenson Paley," he continued in a hushed tone, "is the nephew of your dear neighbour, as you must have been told. The man has met him terribly seldom in his life of sixty, and his nephew's of twenty-two years. Shacklebolt discussed all of this with the Muggle Prime Minister, and I was moved here as the old man's nephew. He has been ordered to take care of me, the way he would as if I were the _actual_ Stevenson. He's aware I'm not, though." He chuckled as an afterthought.

She blinked. "What _does_ he know, then? Sure they couldn't have told him that your probation period has to end up with you getting comfortable into the community of _his_ type of people?"

"I assume not," he shrugged.

This was news. Draco Malfoy being an undercover Auror for the Ministry… Draco Malfoy living off as a Muggle… Draco Malfoy being her parents' neighbor.

Hermione was slowly nodding, absorbing all the information. Until another question propped up in her head.

"Wait. How did you… You mean you people _accidentally_ found out about this colleague of Dad's, who was expecting his nephew to visit him?" she squinted at him.

He shrugged, whistling a breath out, and looked away.

Uh-oh.

" _Draco Malfoy_!" she hissed, making him jump and flail his arms about, possibly to prevent her from taking his name, "You bloody _ferret_! This is no coincidence! You _purposely_ chose a place to _my_ proximity!"

He smirked mischievously, "You think everything's about _you_ , don't you? Taking that _War Heroine_ title far too seriously, eh? _But_ ," he interrupted as she opened her mouth again. "But I _might_ have done what you're accusing me of," he gave her a full, toothy grin.

 _Too much discomfort._ She awkwardly cleared her throat, looking away. But truth be told, nothing prevented irritation from creeping under her skin. This git was never going to give up on making her life hell, was he? Speaking of…

"What about working like a foolhardy teen to charm the pants off my parents?" she crossed her arms again.

He chuckled at that. "What about that?"

She snarled, " _Why_ are you doing it?"

"Why, but to _rile you up_ , Granger?" he winked at her and, in the blink of eye, began to pace towards the side of the roof's balcony that faced the house he was supposed to be in.

Hermione noticed that the sun was setting, and so didn't make any move to stop him for further questioning. He _was_ a neighbor and _was_ found bouncing around her house all day long. She groaned at the thought, but sought comfort in the fact that she had the opportunity of pestering him with questions, anytime she liked.

She sighed resignedly as he hopped onto the adjacent terrace, jumping athletically over a distance of about two feet. She knew he was showing off, but she wasn't impressed in the least.

No, she _really_ wasn't.

Then she turned on her heels and stormed downstairs. This had been a _huge_ day, after all.

* * *

 ** _Do you like the plot?_** ** _Review if you read. Really makes my day to see you respond._**

 ** _xoxo_**

 ** _Aishwarya._**

* * *

 **ooo TO BE CONTINUED ooo**


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